


I'll Use You As A Warning Sign

by SpinMeAround_Elvis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Finding Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Usage Relapse, drug usage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:45:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinMeAround_Elvis/pseuds/SpinMeAround_Elvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Sam's addicted to drugs, and can see his dream of going to Stanford slipping away with every night he works in the strip club. </p><p>One night he overdoses and gets sent to the hospital, where a nurse named Jessica Moore sends electric shocks through his body. Both with shock paddles, and her smile.     </p><p>I suck at summarys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Use You As A Warning Sign

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't proof read it. I just kind of got pissed and typed. This is the product of my day of rage. Enjoy. Or don't... It's a free country.
> 
> Also I would love to hear back from anyone who reads it. Thanks.

Music rattled the mirror that leaned against the wall. It shook just as Sam's hands did. Was it heroine, that Ruby had shot into his arm? He couldn't remember. No one would mind, he thought. So long as his hands were in time with the music. Looking into the mirror he gave himself a once over. It didn't look like much had changed since he stood in the same dressing room yesterday. Hand hovering over his abdominal like it always did, when he was in front of the full length mirror. His ribs were beginning to protrude again. Taking the attention away from the abs he had worked so hard to tone.

He should really use the money he made tonight to get a good meal, he thought. But he knew he wouldn't do it. It would go to dance classes, as it always did. His hair was a mess, but the customers always seemed to like it. Except for a select few who seemed to have a thing for him looking like he was about to go out and apply for a job- a real job, that is.Not this bullshit he was spending forty-plus hours a week doing. He could hear the song change in the front room.

It was the kind he enjoyed working to. Smooth, but with a beat that made your heart stammer so it could move in time with the drum. It said something about an ass- and he wasn't surprised. Nearly all the music they played here did. He swung his hips experimentally in front of the mirror, moving in time with the music. Yes, he would be sure to look up this song when he had the time. It wouldn't take much to get a few dollars to this sound. Not with how the music made him want to move. He had heard it on the radio before but couldn't quite place it. Which meant he would be waiting another two or so minutes before he left the so-called dressing room.

The place looked like it had been a men's restroom at one time. The floor a cold tile and the mirrors not even mounted on the walls, shoved up against them where Sam would put money on the fact that the urinals used to be. The hip swinging had graduated to practicing body-rolls in front of the mirror. His eyes never bothering to meet those of his reflection. He didn't have to worry about his facial expressions. Unlike some of the boys, it came naturally. The ability to tone his face to match the music. And at times, hide his disgust with some of the customers that passed through. He thrust his hips forward, watching his reflection and repeating the action when the first did not meet his standards. They wanted to see someone who knew how to move. 'All sexy like.' As ruby had so well explained, on his first night on the job. It wasn't just about sex appeal, he soon learned. Despite what all the others seemed to think. They wanted a performer. Well, a performance. And if there was one thing Sam knew how to do in this world, it was how to put on a show.

The proof of that was in the fact that there was still meat on his bones. Though most of the fat had disappeared after taking on this job, he wasn't starving. And for now, he would accept that as a win. The dressing room door swung open, and Sam nearly leapt to the opposite side of the room, searching his bag for the grey cardigan he had worn in and tugging it over his head when he found it. The warm wool hugging his arms and chest and hanging over his stomach.

He could feel his face burning red as he found himself praying that they hand't seen him moving in front of the mirror. It wasn't the fact that they would see him- hell, most of the guys he worked with had seen him stark naked. it was the fact that he had been practicing. It shouldn't be something he was ashamed of, especially because he knew for a fact that most of the others would practice with each other. Giving one another notes on what they could do to preform. But Sam had never found it appropriate. As strange as that was, given his current employment.

He felt a body walk past him as he focused his attention on the gym bag he pretended to search through. And though it was hushed, he heard a laugh. The kind that made you think of wind chimes clanging too hard together when it was cold outside and they were useless anyway.

He straightened out his legs, returning to his full height and turned over his shoulder to see who had joined him so unexpectedly. It was Gabriel. Great. He let out a low sigh, glancing back at the mirror for a split second, out of habit. Running his right hand quickly through his ever-growing locks. "Having a good go at yourself, are you?" The shorter man chimed. His rattling wind-chime-laughter starting back up as he fished his hand around in what was known around all of the guys as the Gabriel junk trunk.

It was nothing but candy. The blue jar was not really a trunk at all, but the name had graduated from the fact that all anyone ever saw the man eat was junk food. Sam swore one day Gabriel would wake up, and it would all come back to his butt. Literally. But he never listened, popping sixlits into his mouth every time he exited the stage.

 

Sam could hear the cries of the crowd now, over the music. One of the boys must really be working them, "That Nicky out there?" he questioned, ignoring Gabriel's initial comment.

"Naw." Gabriel hummed, digging his hand around until he found a jawbreaker. Shoving it into his mouth and sucking on the round candy before pushing it into the side of his cheek with his tongue. "S' Ryder." He finished after a slight pause. His voice coming out a bit indirect from the jawbreaker resting in the right side of his cheek.

Sam felt his face fall. "Ryder?" He echoed, slumping his shoulders in defeat. He sat back on the stool next to Gabriel, using one heel and then the other to push off his sneakers. "I thought he wasn't coming tonight. Ruby said she wasn't gonna put him on the schedule." He let his eyes fall shut, rubbing at them with the palm of his hand. "You still letting your girlfriend fight your battles for you?" Gabriel laughed, pinning his eyes on Sam. "Something tells me that's maybe not the best way to handle confrontation."

"Well if there was any sort of confrontation I'd say you're right. But there's not." He insisted, spinning himself around on the stool with a push of his foot.

 

 

"And she's not my girlfriend. We just--"

 

 

"Screw." Gabriel finished for him.

 

"It's casual." Sam shrugged, rising to his feet and moving towards the door. Another round of squeals from the crowd rang in his ears. "Damn Ryder." He muttered, twisting his back and hearing it pop all the way down his spine. "I'm not gonna make rent if I don't go out there soon."

He complained into the still air of the dressing room, "But I hate going while he's still out there."

 

"Oh, baby boy gonna cry 'cause he's gotta share the stage?"

 

Sam rolled his eyes, twisting his back the opposite direction and hearing it pop again. "Fuck off, Gabriel."

He heard Gabriel snap back snidely that if he gave him the time of day he'd give him something real good to cry about. And Sam was glad he walked out into the hallway, the door drifting shut behind him quietly. Leaving him free from what he was sure would have been a shower of inappropriate comments.

 

He reached down into his pocket, feeling for the slight pair of glasses that he knew resided in there. When he felt the thin frames he pinched the side of them between his fingertips, pulling them from his jean pocket and unfolding them. He slipped them onto his face, and it felt familiar. Safe. Almost.

 

It wasn't a long walk from the dressing room to side stage, taking only about a minute in total for him to travel at a speed that would have made even an old man cringe.

The doorway to side stage stood, as uninviting as it could be. With it's peeling paint and cold grey color, aside from the hastily written words in red sharpie that framed the door frame, 'Give'm hell, and give'm hots.' Sam felt himself cringe. It was Gabriel's handwriting. He had seen the shorter man scribble his number down enough times to know for sure.

He stepped side stage and glanced over the old black curtain, taking in the audience. It wasn't much. A few older women, maybe early forties. Probably out celebrating one of the ladies in the groups recent divorce. It was the usual crowd, a few young-ish girls. Fewer attractive ones. He didn't mind though, it wasn't like he wasn't getting paid for pretending they were the loveliest things he had ever laid eyes on. He watched Ryder, swinging lazily around the pole that stood in the center of the room, swinging his hips in the direction of the youngest- and by far most attractive girl in the room. She had brunette hair and an I-wont-tell smile. And Sam was instantly jealous.

Not that he wanted to screw her in particular. Just of the fact that Ryder was going to make a buck faster than he was.

Ruby, the owner of the place, a twenty-something with raven black hair and swollen lips had a 'rule' against sleeping with the customers for money. Lap dances were acceptable, she'd said when he first started. But nothing past that. Sam had soon come to find though, that that was a load of shit. Everyone slept with customers, because the old strip joint wasn't exactly the hottest place in town. And they all had bills to pay. So when it came down to it, as long as ten percent of what you made screwing your customer landed in Ruby's pocket, she didn't make a fuss.

 

The curtain shifted, and Sam turned to see Cas standing next to him, stretching his arms in the way athletes do before getting ready to compete. "You ready?" He yawned, reaching over and messing Sam's hair up a bit more.

Cas dressed a lot like Sam did for work. Sweater vest, and glasses. The only difference being Cas actually needed his. They had found that the bashful-nerd bid seemed to work better when there was two of them. So they would usually wait for each other on the days they worked together, going on stage together and well--stripping down at the same time. Sam actually liked Cas too, so that made working with him more bearable.

The guy didn't live and breathe this stuff like the others seemed to, and he found that refreshing. He also pitied him a little, with the amount of guy customers that they got, Cas had to really lay it on thick when dancing for the girls. There was always that look in Cas's eye. The one that said he would be anywhere else if he could be. But he couldn't. He had told Sam all about how his family had disowned him, when he came out as gay. And in truth, this was the only place he could work. What with his family owning the only chain-resturaunt in town.

Sam nodded, reaching over and straightening Cas's tie then tucking it back in. Past the curtain, he saw out of the corner of his eye Ryder clambering off of the stage. Heading to one of the back rooms, brunette in hand.

 

"Had someone come in yesterday." Cas turned his attention to his own hair, looking into the small mirror hung on the wall and running his hand through it a few times. Doing more harm than good to how it looked.

"Oh?"

 

"Real cute." Cas mused, and Sam saw him give himself a once-over. "Bright eyes. Freckles." Cas laughed, and Sam didn't mind it like Gabriel's. "Thought he was lost, when he came in here. Saw Ruby explaining to him there were only guys dancing."

Sam felt himself laugh, the sound scraping the back of his throat foreignly. "He couldn't of looked that straight." Sam argued, his interest peaked. I mean, there was even a light up male silhouette out on the front door. No straight guy would have passed that without extreme caution.

"No he really did." Cas shrugged, blush creeping up on his cheeks. "I ended up leaving. And we went back to his place." Sam didn't mind hearing about such stuff, as much as he was around it. It was refreshing to see someone still blushed at the mention of something. "Oh yeah?" he teased, "Well I was going to say for you to point him out to me, but it kind of puts a damper on a relationship when one person pays the other for sex."

"You're one to talk." Cas jabbed back, smile pulling his lips up. "And for your information, he didn't pay me." Sam's eyebrows raised. "And he made me breakfast."

"Well damn." Sam muttered, "Good for you man-- hey you said he-"

He was cut off as a small hand slapped his rear end. "You boys better get your asses out there! Or I'll start loosing customers." Ruby smiled up at Sam, waiting for him to bend down and plant a kiss to her red lips. They tasted like smoke and vodka.

"I do good tonight you gonna mix up your special for me?" He played it cool but his eyes were pleading, he could already feel the last of the drugs she had shot up into his arm a few hours ago starting to wear thin.

"Sure baby." Ruby's voice curled, making the pet name sound like a drug in itself. It was intoxicating to be around her. "Now go." She ordered, kissing at his lips for a breathless minute. Leaving them swollen and red.

 

"Please tell me you're not still shooting up with her." Cas's voice had taken on a more serious note. And when Sam didn't answer he pressed on, "Sam. What about stanford?"

Sam laughed, cold and amused.

"Stanford. Right. Because that's actually gonna happen." He looked down, meeting Cas's eyes. "My brother was practically killing himself. Still is. To try and send me there. You think I'm gonna keep making him do that. No. It's not worth it."

"Does he know?" Sam stayed silent.

"Sam does he know?"

"He doesn't even know I work here Cas. He'd freak if he even knew about that. You think anyone wants to know their younger sibling is making their living stripping and screwing strangers? Why would I tell him about the drugs?"

 

He snapped. And now Cas was the one that was silent. It didn't last long though. "I would talk to him for you.. If you'd just introduce me... We could all talk.."

Sam ignored Cas's argument and decided it was time to go. They entered the stage as they always did when they worked together. Toeing nervously about the stage. Each one feeding off of the others energy. Sam shuffled his feet up to the pole that stood in the middle of the stage, glancing at it in what seemed to be honest to god fear.

He reached up and pressed at the bridge of his glasses, so they sat in place. He reached his right hand up and grasped at the pole, glancing to the audience timidly before walking lazily in a circle around it. A few of the women watching seemed confused. As they always did when he began this way. But their eyes never left as he grabbed the pole with his second hand and pressed his chest forward, sending a roll down his spine so that his body connected with the cold pole one section at a time. The action flowing as naturally as it ever did.

There were a few whistles, here and there. And Sam knew it would be easy money. He still wore the grey cardigan and they already were biting.

He grinned, sending a sly wink to the next-prettiest girl in the room. And out of the corner of his eye he could see Cas tugging at his blue tie, biting at his lower lip as he crouched low to lean towards a group of women, his blue eyes earning a few squeals.

It didn't take long, as he suspected. And in a few hours, he was lying naked beside a girl with stretch marks on her thighs who talked too much. "How much do I pay you? Oh god." The worried girl breathed, "What have I done?" she kicked frantically at the sheets that Sam had no doubt were unclean and he laid still, staring up at the ceiling. Waiting for the moral crisis of her choice to sleep with him to pass. "I'm gonna have a man whore's baby. Oh god."

Sam blinked, still staring at the ceiling. He could tell her not to worry, that there was no reason for her to worry about that, he usually did when they freaked out afterwords like this. But this one had called him a whore. And so he would let her sweat it out. It usually went like this.

They would leave the money and say some awkward short words of farewell before slipping out the door, never to be seen in the establishment again. And he didn't mind.

She slapped a few hundreds on the mattress, and Sam could tell she really was jumpy. Because when he sat up to retrieve the payment she let out a muffled squeak, backing up and moving towards the door. Exiting quickly like they all did.

He grabbed his pants from the floor, slipping them back on. Not bothering with the cardigan that he would be sure to retrieve later. He tucked the bills away into his pocket, leaving the top of his pants unbuttoned and zipped up half way. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door that he had stared at far to many times before for his liking.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he found it in himself to haul up from the bed and move towards the door, kicking it open lightly with the heel of his foot.

When he came he took in the club. It seemed empty enough. Though the rattling of a headboard in a far off room argued otherwise.

He quickly realized that he must have sat on the bed for a lot longer than he thought he had. Ruby sat on the stage, legs dangling over the edge, fighting with a needle, trying to get it in at just the right spot. Sam walked over silently, and Ruby spread her legs so she could wrap them around his waist, holding out the needle expectantly.

 

 

"Need some help?"

 

"No shit Sherlock." She spat back, letting out a whine. "Hurry Baby, I want it now."

Sam took the needle into his hand, leaning down and pressing it into the crook of her arm, thumbing the end and injecting it into her arm. Ruby's head leaned back in bliss, her eyes drifting shut.

"Mmm. Good boy." She hummed, laying back on the stage. Sam grabbed at her shoulder, stopping her from laying back. "Hey hey!" He snapped, patting her cheek, "Not so fast sleeping beauty. My turn."

She rolled her eyes but conceded. Shoving herself upright and leaning forward, grabbing at Sam's already unhooked belt, sliding it out of the belt loops. "Gimme your arm." He obeyed and soon there was a belt wrapped around his arm, tightening until it pinched his skin together. Ruby grabbed another needle that lay beside her, this one with a larger dose than the one that he had injected into her arm. "Now It's gonna pinch a little. Try not to cry." She mocked, leaning forward and kissing at the corner of his mouth before injecting the contents of the needle into his arm.

And that was all it took. After that, the world melted away. The stage rising and falling before him as he crawled up next to her, tugging at the belt until it fell from his arm. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

 

 

The next thing he remembered was the shouting. A familiar hand slapped at his cheek.

 

"Sam!" Cas's worried voice broke through.

 

"Sam! Sammy!" No, Dean's. That couldn't be right. His brother didn't even know this place existed.

 

"Sam!" The two voices merged together, fading as his vision did. He saw it in snapshots. The ambulance. The face of the paramedic, asking him what his name was. What day it was. He wanted to laugh. What stupid questions to ask.

 

He saw his brother's face, broken and terrified, tear tracks plowing through the freckles that rested over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He could read the question that lingered beyond the coat of tears that covered his green eyes. Where had he gone wrong?

 

And then at the hospital, he saw her. He should have been thinking about how cold he was, or the fact that the colder he felt the more sweat seemed to break over his forehead. Hell, he should have been worrying about the fact that his older brother had just found him half naked passed out in a strip joint with a needle sticking out of his arm. But it all seemed irrelevant.

 

Because when she moved around the room out of his field of vision, he had a reason to turn his head when as the doctor asked him to. He tried to keep his eyes on her, but damn she was fast.

Her blonde curly hair beating against her shoulders as she acted faster than any of them, as if there was a reason she should care if he lived or died. She had a kiss me face and eyes to match. Along with lips so soft they looked like they had never been touched before.

She had a nice body, that much was obvious. But there was something about her presence. Something that didn't quite fit. She looked like she belonged in a different time. One with old cars and boys who took girls dancing. And it sent Sam's head spinning. It shouldn't have surprised him, when she leaned over to ask him what his name was. It was standard procedure, to see if patients were aware of the simplest of things.

But that thought didn't cross his mind. All he knew was that she was talking to him and if he didn't breathe soon he was going to black out before he got the chance to answer. "I'm whoever you need me to be." The response came out rushed, and slurred. As he still was trying to gain control over his body. And he was pretty sure it was supposed to be want, not need. In the cheesy pickup line he had never dared to use before this.

But it didn't matter. Because then she was laughing and Sam knew.

He knew in that instance. That his heart didn't stand a chance against this blonde haired, blue eyed girl.


End file.
